Blood, Guts, and Raw is War
by ScottTaylor
Summary: A new girl steps into the WWF. And she's looking for a champion. Will she find one and will he accept? Who's going to cause who trouble? And better yet, who are going to get their asses kicked? Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Blood, Guts, and Raw is War

By: Scott Taylor

[Begin Chapter 1]

"Welcome to the WWF, I'm Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley. I'm sure if you manage to live through the first week or so here you'll do fine. Road Dogg said you would make it, but I have my doubts," Stephanies arrogant attitude and breezy attitude was getting on the new-comers nerves.

"I know who you are and I know what to do. You just tel your _business partner_ to watch out."

"You're going for the WWF title?!" Stephanie almost laughed.

"No. But I'm sure someone will," the new-comer brushed back her short, dark reddish brown hair. Then she started walking away from Stephanie. Stephanie stopped her.

"Oh, New Girl, no one is going to take the belt from Kurt. No one."

She walked up to Stephanie and stared her in the face. She had to look down slightly because she was somewhat taller. "Two things you need to know, Steph. One: The name is Flare. Two: Kurt will lose his belt within the next two weeks." Then Flare left the McMahon stunned.

"Now all I need is a champion..." Flare muttered to herself as she walked down the hall. 

~~~~~

She loved the business and had thanked Dogg several thousand times for helping her get in the WWF. He was putting his reputation on the line for her. If she failed he would... So she decided not to fail. She was a survivor. She would win!

She watched the superstars. Some were obviously better than others. But she didn't want someone who was already at the top. They were all flash and no show. She wanted some one with _talent_. 

Steve Blackman? Other than the fact he had no personality what-so-ever he was at the top of her list. He was talented and not the worst looking of the superstars.

Al Snow? ...maybe a little too much personality there...

Hardcore Holly? He seemed a bit rude and she doubted he would accept any help... doesn't really care if he has a title or not... He wouldn't be a very good choice...

Scotty 2 Hotty? He was a bit small and was already loved by the crowd. Same for Grandmaster. They'd be better for the Tag Championship...

Farooq? Bradshaw? ...their laid back attitudes would clash with her... Not to mention the fact beer-guzzling poker buddies didn't fit the image she wanted...

Bossman? Hold is he now?

Edge? Christian? She wanted someone with _something_ that resembled an IQ...

Gangrel? No vampires, please...

Test? Albert? Trish Stratus...

Her list ended there. She had no more ideas. She glanced back at the list. She was getting discouraged. no one seemed right... 

If she didn't find someone tonight she would go for the Women's Championship--help by Ivory. But her reputation would be very low with the McMahons. And everyone knew that the McMahons could make things happen.

"Hey, Dogg," Flare walked into her friends room. "I got a question for you."

"Shoot," Road Dogg turned his attention to her.

"Who do _you_ think has possibilities here in the WWF?"

"Me." Dogg grinned at her.

She brushed her hair back from her face in exasperation. "Come on, this is serious."

Road Dogg nodded. "I know, but don't worry so much!" He flipped on the TV. "Let's just watch a match or two."

It was the Radicalz versus Right to Censor. Automatically, she eliminated the contestents. Right to Censor? -- uh huh... But the Radicalz... Saturn? He was big. And mean. But not what she was looking for. Something about an IQ... She wanted someone with _cunning_. Eddie Guerrero? That was a laugh. Dean Malenko? ...that would be worse than anyone in Right to Censor... He was small. Not too talented... Annoying came to mind...

But _he_ was perfect! Cunning. Powerful. Talented. Had the best submission move in the WWF. A technical wrestler. The best technical wrestler? Possibly. Could he beat Angle? Yes. She had found her champion. His name was Chris Benoit.

"Hey, Flare?" Dogg's voice shook her out of her thoughts. "What's so interesting? It's just the Radicalz."

"Tell me about Benoit."

"What?! No way--" Dogg looked at her in disbelief. "The guy is bad news. Hunter likes 'im, but... He's no good, Flare. Use Blackman to get the gold if ya gotta. At least he's honest."

"Dogg, I've already decided. You can help me or I can go unprepared."

Road Dogg spent the next 15 minutes recalling everything about Benoit that he could.

~~~~~

"Chris Benoit?" He turned to her pulling on a shirt at the same time. He had just gotten out of his match against Right to Censor.

"What do you want?" Benoit sneered at the girl.

"My name's Flare. And yours is Chris Benoit."

"_Really_?" Sarcasm. He was bored. He had no time for these pathetic new people. "Hey, New Girl, hurry this up."

"The name is _Flare_, Benoit. You should really be nicer to the person who's going to make you a champion. _The_ champion," Flare smirked at him.

Benoit looked her over. She was wearing tattered jeans and a black midriff tank top. He short hair was messily brushed back and her eyes were dark and calculating. He debated between hearing her out and ignoring her.

"And how might you do that?" Benoit's sneer grew patronizing.

Flare dodged the question. For the time being an answer would do no good. "The Radicalz are good, but you're obviously the talent of the group. It's odd that two of them have belts and you don't. You deserve those belts and more."

Benoit puffed slightly at the compliment.

"And talent like yours should not be wasted..." she slinked around him. Watching his reaction. "And frankly I think you'd look good with gold around your waste. Namely the World Wrestling Federation Championship."

Benoit was no fool and wouldn't let the question pass--no matter how many compliments he received along the way. "Your plan?"

"Agression," Flare grinned at him again. "I hope you don't mind my tactics, partner."

"Did I ever say I was your partner, New Girl?"

"Am I wrong?"

"We'll see."

"You'll have a title match on Raw," Flares confidence was contagious.

"How do you know?" Benoit still didn't trust the girl.

"'Cause Foley's a nice guy--and he doesn't like _King_ Kurt," She then turned and left a stunned Benoit. The conversation had been less than five minutes.

Benoit just shook his head and entered his locker room not really expecting her to come back when she couldn't get a title shot for him.

~~~~~

"Commisioner Foley?" Flare stuck her head into Mick Foley's "office".

"Yes?"

"Hello, I'm Flare. I'm new here and--"

"Hiya, Flare. So how do ya like the WWF?" Mick shook hands with her. He had wanted to meet her. He had heard Vince McMahon say something about a girl with some karate skills who happened to have some ties with the Degenerates. He figured he'd give her a chance even if she was friends with 'em.

"It's great here, but I really need to talk to you about business..." Foley's face grew grim at her comment.

"Business? You want a match?"

"Yes and no."

"You want a title shot?" Foley took a bite out of a Snickers bar.

"Yes and no."

"Well, which is it?" Foley had had an aggravating day and this New Girl wasn't helping...

"I want to set up a title shot for a good friend of mine," Flare paused, letting the Commish think it over. "C'mon, we both don't like Angle, right? He doesn't even really deserve the belt. So...I thought you might grant a title shot for my friend on Raw."

Foley thought of who she was talking about. There was no question in his mind it was the Road Dogg who had actually recommended her to Vince. "Sure, just 'cause your new and cute, too." The Commish smiled at her in a way that he would a close friend or relative. "Who's your friend?"

"Chris Benoit."

That was when the Commish started choking on the Snickers.

"What?!"

"Thanks, Mick!" Flare winked at him and fled.

"Damn..." the Commish couldn't believe what had just happened. He had taken great measures before to make sure Benoit didn't have the title... He didn't think Benoit would be any better to represent the title than Angle... He took another bite out of the Snickers and reminded himself to ask more questions next time.

~~~~~

Flare pounded on Benoit's door again.

"Hey, Benoit, open up!"

He opened it finally and stared at her in shock, "You're back?"

"Did you doubt me?" She grinned. "I got the title shot!"

"You _what_?!" Chris stared at her dumbly.

"I got it," she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

"The commisioner okayed it?"

Flare nodded. "Do you still think the 'New Girl' can't do anything?"

Benoit slowly smiled the sinister smile he was famous for. He finally had his chance at the title again and didn't even have to go through the trouble of that 'number one comtender' bull.

A knock sounded at the door. 

"Come in," Flare saw Benoit's scowl at her answering and shrugged.

Stephanie opened the door tentively. After seeing there wasn't an ambush she glared at Flare.

"I just heard about your request for a title shot," Stephanie's dull eyes snapped.

"Already?" Flare's tone was almost conversational.

"You can't have the WWF Championship. Kurt'll win."

"Will he?"

"He will," her answer was little more than a squeak.

"Should I?" She looked towards Benoit. He had a vague enough idea of what she was asking his opinion on and nodded 'yes' maliciously.

Flare then delivered a kick--much like Blackman's karate kick--to Stephanie's pointed chin. Stephanie collapsed in a heap.

"I think I like your tactics," Benoit grinned sinisterly again.

[End Chapter 1]

Feedback: Review, please. Or email me at [scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com][1].

   [1]: mailto:scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com



	2. Chapter 2

Blood, Guts, and Raw is War

By: Scott Taylor

[Begin Chapter 2]

Benoit's theme erupted. The crowd booed--still remembering their hatred for him when he won the title from their beloved hero, The Rock, and was then cheated out of it.

"The challenger, weighing in at 220 pounds--CHRIS BENOIT, accompanied to the ring by Flare!" Lillain Garcia's familiar voice filled the arena.

Benoit entered the ring and held the ropes down for Flare. Instead of accepting the help Flare used the top rope to flip over it and into the ring. Benoit didn't have any time to react, because Kurt Angle's music had already begun.

"And now your World Wrestling Federation Champion, also weighing in at 220 pounds--KURT ANGLE, accompanied to the ring by Stephanie McMahon Helmsley!"

Kurt stood outside the ring, staring in at his smirking opponent, afraid of stepping in the ring and being beaten before he could even stand. Benoit motioned him in. Kurt shook his head, eyes wide and motioned for Benoit to leave the ring before he got in. Stephanie joined in and screamed for Benoit to get back. Benoit just shook his head 'no'.

...This could go on for hours...

Flare was never one to be patient... She ran forward and used the ropes to propel herself in Kurt's direction. A direct hit and both went crumbling to the cement floor together. Both also stumbled to their feet--Kurt with Steph's help.

Then Benoit was there, to Stephanie's horror, and tossing Kurt into the ring. 

Flare moved herself to her side of the ring to watch the match with pride. She had gotten this match.

The bell rang. The match had started.

"This match has been scheduled for one pin fall for the World Wrestling Federation Championship," as Lillian Garcia talked Benoit tried to make the most of his advantage. Kurt was dazed and being beaten badly.

As long as Benoit kept this stamina and Flare kept Stephanie from interfering or Kurt from running away the belt would be in their possession. This would be an easy win.

Benoit was dominating Kurt Angle--not allowing the Olympic hero to get in a single punch. A single mistake. A hesitation caused him to be on the ground as Angle lunged desperately at his waist. Angle punched at Benoit's face, trying to inflict some damage.

"Come on, Kurt!" Stephanie clapped and cheered. Flare glared at her, catching her eye. Stephanie stuck her tongue out at her rival and smirked.

"That's it, they're going down," Flare muttered. "Get _up_, Benoit. It's hard to win when you're on the ground."

Kurt got off Benoit and turned to Steph, already gloating over his win. Benoit got up and quickly German suplexed him. 

It was Flare's turn to smirk at the shocked McMahon.

Benoit was grinning as he pushed Kurt down. Crippler Crossface. 

Flare found herself silently chanting at Kurt to tap out. Stephanie on the other hand was trying to figure out how to help her business partner. 

Stephanie jumped onto the mat's edge and gripped the rope while shouting at the ref. Flare would have to remedy that before the ref stopped paying attention to the match... 

Flare dashed to Stephanie's side of the ring and whipped her down of the edge. The ref turned to face them.

"Watch the match and do your job!" the ref obviously seen Flare hit Stephanie and went back to the match. 

Kurt was almost in tears from the pain. His hand hovered above the mat. No chance to get to the ropes... He tapped out.

Stephanie looked at the ring with a dawning realization. They had lost. Flare stalked towards her angrily. Stephanie scooted back--almost crawled--until she hit a wall. Flare continued to get closer. Then Flare's face was inches from Steph's and Flare's damned voice was taunting:

"I told you _I_ would have the Champion."

Then Flare was gone and so was Stephanie's breath--and Kurt's for that matter. Benoit kicked Angle out of the ring and grabbed his belt from the ref. He admired it.

"So, will I do as a partner?"

"We'll see," there was less menace to Benoit's smirk this time. It was hard to believe he was champion--fair and square after all the work he had went through unsuccessfully and the girl had got it with such ease... "We'll see, although I've got a good feeling."

Flare returned the grin. She was sure there'd be a title defense next week, but for right now everything was perfect. 

As Stephanie helped Kurt away from the ring she swore to herself that Flare would pay for that match. There was always next week. 

[End Chapter 2]

Feedback: Review, please. Or email me at [scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com][1].

   [1]: mailto:scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com



	3. Chapter 3

Blood, Guts, and Raw is War

By: Scott Taylor

[Begin Chapter 3]

Flare was right. A rematch was scheduled for the next week--at Triple H's request. 

The Game had walked into the Commish' office. Not intimidatingly--per usual--but carefully... Cunningly..? He had walked up to Foley who was expecting a verbal attack at any moment. But none came. Instead Triple H calmly stated his request.

"Will you arange a title shot for my friend, _Mick_?" Hunter braced his arms on the Commishioner's table, awaiting a response.

"For your _friend_? Not for you?" Mick was surprised. It had to be a trick. Triple H was only out for number one and everyone knew it.

"Yeah, my _friend_," Triple H reminded himself to keep his infamous temper at bay.

"Really, Triple H, you don't deserve--well, your _friend_ doesn't deserve it. You've caused a lot of trouble in the WWF lately."

"...but...?"

"...I'll let you have the shot." Mick left out the fact he was only granting the title shot to him because he felt as if he had been tricked into letting Benoit having it. And whether he wanted to admit it or not The Game was better at representing the WWF than the Wolverine.

Triple H also had his thoughts that he didn't reveal. He was there for revenge. Stephanie had demanded Flare pay. This was the easiest way. He could have went for the belt himself, but that wouldn't be much fun and he prefered to stay on decent terms with the Radicalz. His friend would win or lose, but either way Flare was going to pay. After all, the Game had a plan.

The thoughts turned into a evil sneer and a dark chuckle. Mick joined in not comprehending what the hell was so funny.

And so Benoit had a title defense against an unknown challenger. Set up by Triple H--Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley's husband. It couldn't be good. And Flare had the worst feeling about who was the challenger. 

"Benoit," Benoit's attention turned to her as she paced the room. He leaned back in the leather coach, listening to her, but relaxed. "If you have to fight... If you're fighting one of the Radicalz--your friends..."

"Then I'll win. Business is business and no one is taking this belt from me," Benoit smirked. "Is that what's troubling you? You think I'm going to chicken out? I won't."

"...I know..." Flare continued pacing, brushing her hair back with a worried hand. "I think the match may be against a friend of mine."

"Oh, really?" Benoit's nonchalance was starting to get on her nerves. 

"You have to listen to me. If you're fighting my friend you don't do any more than you have to. You do what you must to keep your belt and you quit. Got that? No crossface crippler after the bell. The bell rings and it's over. You leave him alone. Okay?" Flare glared into his dark eyes as hers sparked.

Benoit didn't answer. He just grinned at her.

"Benoit, I'm serious about this," Flare continued glaring and Benoit was all but cracking up.

"Don't worry. We're on top of the WWF. No one can touch us." Benoit faked an innocence for his next question, "Who's your _friendI,_ anyway?"

"Road Dogg." 

"No problem."

They were the last match on Raw. The crowd was electric. They had gone from being heels to heroes in a week. Surprise, surprise. The crowd cheered them down the run way. Benoit climbed into the ring and offered the ropes for Flare, but just like last week she refused and flipped herself over the ropes to the crowd's delight.

Triple H's theme blared. He and a self satisfied Stephanie stepped out from the back. 

Stephanie mouthed the words, "Going down" to Flare and motioned to her waist. She was saying the gold would be on their side.

"Over my dead bosy, bitch," Flare muttered. 

Their entrance wasn't impressing Benoit either. He grit his teeth and yelled for them to send out whoever they were going to. Triple H raised his hand for silence.

"I was thinking that I would win the title, but then I thought again," he paused to smirk before continuing. "Then I decided to get a title shot for one of my friends--just like you did." Stephanie hung on Triple H's arm like a leech. The noise, the taunts, everything was giving Flare a head ache and Triple H's next announcement didn't help. "Benoit's opponent will be none other than The Road Dogg Jesse James!" Triple H crotch chopped the pair in the ring and retreated with his wife. The Dogg's music began. He stepped from the back without his usual laid back attitude and shrugged towards Flare. Flare nodded in understanding. Both friends would do what they had to.

"Benoit, you remember what I told you back stage. The bell rings and it's _over_." She then stepped out of the ring. 

"Right," Benoit readied himself for the match as Lillian announced their statistics and such.

Road Dogg started the match with a drop kick aimed perfectly at Chris' chest. Chris dropped, but was back up in seconds. Road Dogg eluded him for awhile throwing in some punches until Benoit reversed and hit Dogg with hard punches that drove him to the corner. Benoit pulled him from the corner and executed a brain buster. Flare looked away from the match. Her Champion was winning, but her friend was being beaten. Every time she heard the thud of a body hitting the unyielding mat she winced. It may have been her imagination—it most likely was—but she heard Stephanie's shrill laughter mocking her. That drove her to look back at the match. She couldn't decide which to cheer for Or if she should cheer at all.

"End the match, Benoit!"

Benoit just held the prone Road Dogg and grinned at his partner. Then quickly he thrust his knee into Dogg's mid-section and snapped the Crippler Crossface on his opponent. Dogg tapped out after a few seconds of the excruciating pain. The bell rang. But the match wasn't over. Benoit pulled harder on the Crossface. 

"Benoit! Stop!" Flare slid into the ring and tried to pry Benoit away from her friend along with the ref. Benoit shook his head no' and pulled even harder. Flare stood up and plunged her boot into the small of Benoit's back with as much force as she could gather when off balance. Benoit let go immediately and turned his rage on her.

"What do you think you're doing?! _I'm_ the Champion! He's nothing!" He gestured to Road Dogg by kicking him in the ribs. "You're with me, now. Forget the loser."

"I can't! I won't! He's a friend, Chris," Flare looked at him with contempt. How could she have thought Benoit was a champion? 

"Benoit gripped her on the arm so hard it hurt and pulled her close and almost whispered, "Leave him. We're better than him." She ripped herself away from him and tried to kneel to see how Dogg was, but Benoit pulled her back up. "Don't you get it? You don't need him."

She pulled back and with all her strength she could gather—again off balance—and slapped Benoit. His head swung down with the jarring impact of it and then whipped back up, his eyes gleaming like a cold rock. He threw her to the ground and put her in the Crossface Crippler. The pain was unbearable.

Then a flash of green and black and Benoit crumpled beside her. She didn't see anything past that because she passed out.

Flare wasn't aware when Road Dogg had picked himself up the mat and slammed the steel chair into Chris Benoit's skull. She also wasn't aware when he struggled with her lank body until she was draped across his shoulder. He stumbled up the ramp—in pain, himself. Then the remaining Radicalz stepped out menacingly from backstage. No chance. Then Benoit was up again and behind them. No chance of escape or to fight. The Radicalz grinned malevolently at him. While carrying Flare there was no way he could run—or fight for that matter and he wasn't about to abandon her. After all she had stuck with him

Benoit rubbed the back of his head, "You know, you're going to die for that." He sneered his sinister grin and shook his head to clear it of the fog that had settled in since the blow to the head, delivered by his new enemy, The Road Dogg.

Dogg's throat was dry. It wasn't long since DX had broken up—kind of. No one really knew 100% what was going on with DX—including him. He longed for the security of the group right now. They had had their troubles

The Radicalz closed in. 

The weirdest thing popped into Road Dogg's head at that time. He recalled the theme music of the Corporation. "No Chance, cause that's what ya got" It almost sent him into hysterical laughter. 

Benoit closed in, along with the Radicalz. 

It seemed like he only blinked and Eddie Guerero, Perry Saturn, and Dean Malenko were at his feet with Chyna and Billy Gunn standing tall and looking at that moment like gods. Benoit backed off seeing his advantage had taken a turn for the worse.

"I'm still the champion. And I'm sure she'll see it, too," he took another step back, managing to still look menacing while retreating.

[End Chapter 3]

Feedback: Review, please. Or email me at [scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com][1].

   [1]: mailto:scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com



	4. Epilogue

Blood, Guts, and Raw is War

By: Scott Taylor  


[Begin Epilogue]

Billy relieved the hurting Road Dogg of carrying Flare and helped him to get to his locker room. He was obviously uncomfortable doing it, which was understandable considering Road Dogg had been the person he trusted most in life until the day DX turned on him...

Chyna on the other hand didn't seem uncomfortable at all in the room. She had her reasons for being there and had dragged Billy along. She had been through the same episode with Eddie and didn't want to see it happen to anyone else. Not to mention the new girl had some talent. Or so it seemed on the few times she had chosen to exhibit it. Martial arts training she thought.

"...I wanna thank ya guys for helping..." Road Dogg seemed tongue tied for probably the first time in his life. 

Flare saved Billy and Chyna for trying to answer the almost question by waking up.

"What the..?" She sat up a bit too fast, causing herself to get dizzy and fall back to the couch.

"Hey, take it easy, Flare," Dogg tried a shaky smile on. She sat up anyway. Stubborn as usual.

"What the...?" She put the palm of her hand to her face in an attempt to think clearly. "Billy Gunn and Chyna...?"

Chyna smiled at Flare. She was much kinder than most people thought. Billy maintained his uncomfortable look--well, until Chyna elbowed him in the ribs.

"What are you going to do...about Benoit?" Dogg was obviously concerned.

"You know, Dogg, for all that tough exterior you show people you really are soft at heart," Flare didn't smile or have any inflection in her voice. She was just stating facts. "I have a plan... I always have one..." It was hard, though. Through the short amount of time she had been with Benoit she had grown affectionate of his arrogant demeanor. He had meant something to her. He was her Champion. But she would have a plan. She just had to have a new champion... and revenge... She gazed around the room. She was going to _own_ the WWF. Chris Benoit...or no Chris Benoit. 

Her mind wandered. It was probably...the pain, because she was usually on task... But she was thinking how great of a Women's Champion Chyna would be. It was true. Maybe she did have her champion--s. 

The New Age Outlaws had been the best tag team. Undefeatable. Maybe the damage DX had caused was irreparable, but maybe not... Her deductive mind returned and she counted off the belts and strategies.

As for Women's Championship, Chyna could easily win that.

Intercontinental? Billy already had it.

European? ...Billy, Chyna, _or_ Dogg could handle that.

Hardcore? That would be reserved for her or the Dogg. Although she admired Blackman and could possibly allow him to keep it...

Light-heavy weight Championship? She would enjoy winning that from Dean Malenko herself. The Radicalz would pay...Benoit included.

As for the WWF belt she could easily see it around the waist of anyone in the room.

Yes, she had her Champions. And learned from her old one.

[End Epilogue]

Feedback: Review, please. Or email me at [scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com][1].

Is it just me or did that ending get _really_ corny? That is it. I better go watch a gory movie... I'm starting to creep myself out. 

   [1]: mailto:scotty2hotty_worm@lycos.com



End file.
